Saiyan Hair
by Nindy Kyoko Shinretzu
Summary: A ten-year-old Trunks has found himself an interesting school-project and it has to do with saiyan hair. Will his father and others around him cooperate? Three-chapter story. B/V moments are included as well, and Goten, Goku, Gohan & Videl will all show.
1. Hairy Project

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 1: Hairy Project

"Look here, **officer**, there happens to be nothing wrong with the way I parked. So if you'll just be so kind to stop waving that ticket in front of my face and put it in your pocket – where it belongs – I and my husband will finally be free to pick up our son."

"Afraid I can't do that, ma'am. Do you see that yellow stripe on the edge of the pavement? It means you can't park here."

"There's nowhere else to park and we're running late. Do you even realize who you're talking to? I happen to lead the company that provides your corps with the technology without which you'd hardly be able to even deal out tickets, let alone do anything else."

"That is none of my concern. Rules are rules. I'm putting you up for 10,000 zeni."

But the man whose hair grew unnaturally into a high point stepped out of the background and began to walk towards the man menacingly. Officer Henry didn't know what it was – but something about the air surrounding that man made his knees buckle.

"Why don't you tear that apart and go catch some actual criminals?"

His voice was soft, husky, almost a mere whisper – but the authority and domination present in there was enough to make the bravest man get the hell out of his sight. Henry swallowed, nodded, and took a run for it.

"That was uncalled for, Vegeta," the aqua-haired woman mumbled unconvincingly, an undertone of laughter seeping into her voice.

He grinned. "A bit of ki imbued with an intention to kill never hurts anyone," he whispered into her ear as he leaned forwards and put his hands on her hips from behind, leaving his hot breath to tingle on her left cheek.

Bulma flushed. Normally Vegeta would never have gotten so near her in a public place, but the street was practically vacated since all the parents had already gone into the building where they had to fetch their offspring, who'd been on an excursion.

"Stop teasing, 'Geta."

He sniggered and released her, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. She scowled at the excitement that had mounted in her stomach within seconds. Did he have to arouse her while he knew very well there could be no release any time soon?

Well, be darned; he could forget it. She put her arms around his neck, traced through his thick hair with her fingers and intentionally bit on his lower lip, then pulled back; pleased.

But her saiyan was playing mock-shock while the amusement in his eyes betrayed him.

"Have you no self-control, woman?!"

Knowing he wouldn't feel it anyway, she punched him in the ribs. He chuckled.

"Come on, woman. Like you said; we're running late."

She hooked her arm into his and wanted to walk forward, but he didn't budge and this time she registered **real** shock on his face, followed by anger.

"It won't make us look good if we don't appear as a couple, Vegeta. You know how it goes; we'll have to deal with gossip all over the place if we don't comply with at least a bit of the expectation. It's just an arm-lock; I promise I won't start groping you."

She neglected to add the "until we're at home, that is" that had been swarming inside her mind. This was not the time.

"Stupid human etiquette… Why did you insist on coming in a car that can't be capsulized, anyway?" her husband steered the conversation away from the topic as they began their walk to the brick building; arms hooked.

"Most of the parents can't afford decapsulizable cars. I want to appear **normal**, Vegeta, not like that super-rich woman who leads Capsule Corporation."

"Oh but you **do** want to be perceived like that woman; you thrive on it."

"Well fine, I do most of the time," she snapped. "Just not now, okay? I want the people here to see me as a fellow human and parent. I want to **mingle**."

"_Mingle_," he snorted spitefully.

She giggled and they passed into the glass doors that opened up for them.

"Mom, dad; you're late!" a purple-haired boy in khaki shorts and a blue shirt with a dinosaur print and a logo of his mom's company on the short sleeve shot at them before they could even set eyes on the interior of the parent-filled hall they'd just walked into.

"Always a pleasure, son," Bulma said sardonically. The boy huffed, a tuft of his sleek hair flying up and falling down again as he did so.

"Attitude, Trunks," his mother warned him. "Was it fun?"

"Nah, I was kind of bored. But we did get a cool project and I have an awesome idea for it! Dad, I'm going to need you for this one."

"What?!"

"Yeah," the ten-year-old nodded vigorously, "I need you to tell me about why saiyan hair grows into these sturdy, gravity-defying peaks. It's for science."

His father growled. "Saiyan hair does not **grow**, son; we are born with it and although it can decline if that trait runs in your bloodline, it stays the same throughout your whole life unless someone has the nerve to cut it."

But Trunks jumped up and down excitedly, not understanding his father's reprimand as the refusal it was intended to be.

His mother's eyebrows furrowed worriedly, though.

"I don't hope you're going around school telling your father is an alien, son?"

But the boy looked practically offended; as if his mother had just slapped him.

"Of course not!" he piped up, "but we need to think of a structure of **any** kind of small thing, you know, molecules and such; leaves, **noses**, the little invisible beasts inside our stomach – and then we have to think of what has to be different about the structure if we want it to behave or look differently than here on earth. And saiyan hair already is different, so if I'd just learn what's different and get a hair, and get grandpa to examine –"

"Forget it."

"Why not? You won't miss it when it's just **one** hair!"

Gods! His father was so inflexible.

"I told you it doesn't grow."

"Just one!" Trunks whined.

"No."

Wait a minute… he didn't need his dad for this. Of course he'd get him to tell a bit more, but he could try Goten's dad, too…

"If I didn't know any better this 'awesome idea' of yours sounded a lot like cheating, Trunks. Aren't you supposed to actually learn to understand structures of things yourself? Why don't you just find out what the structure of a leave would have to be if you'd want it to be blue; like it was on planet Namek and is on New Namek you've been told so many stories about."

"Mo-hom, that's boring! And I'm really interested in saiyan hair! Really-really!"

Bulma sighed. She knew there was no talking him out of it; her son was as stubborn and as egocentric as they came, and how couldn't he be? He had the genes of both his parents to thank for it. She decided to drop it as someone familiar walked into their direction.

"Oh hey Theresa, hi!"

Father and son groaned. Ever since the aqua-haired diva had uncovered that her son tended to hang out with a boy called Josh while at school because her little mischief-maker had deemed him 'the coolest human' there, she'd started organizing play-dates and got in touch with the boy's parents, desperately trying to be 'normal'. But that was hard when you had an abnormal family…

While Bulma and Theresa started blabbing away like females couldn't help but do, Trunks saw his school-buddy glumly sitting near one of the banisters, his chestnut-colored hair ruffled and still a scratch visible on his knee from his reckless jump off the rocks they'd been allowed to climb on.

"I'll just go catch up with Josh, dad," he explained hurriedly as he ran towards his friend. The saiyan prince scowled. He'd have thought he'd at least have his son when his wife would find it necessary to 'mingle' – as if picking up your kids just _had_ to become some kind of social event – but now **he**'d succumbed to the human sickness, too. Damn the human blood he got from her side… He gritted his teeth and decided to wait outside, taking place on the pavement against the brick wall and closing his eyes so as not to be disturbed.

"So did you see that baseball game on Channel 6 yesterday Trunks, the one I told you about?"

Trunks sent him a crooked smile. "Better," he bragged suggestively, leaving his friend in suspense a little longer. He waited for a while – rubbed his nose – smiled a bit more…

"I saw it in VIP-seats together with the famous Titan-player, Yamcha."

"Wow…" Josh practically drooled and it was especially this limitless admiration that Trunks loved about him. That – and he knew a lot of practical jokes the demi-saiyan had no means of learning anywhere else. "Where a little money and wealth can't get you, huh?"

His blue eyes sparkling, Trunks allowed his smile to broaden.

There was no need to inform Josh that Yamcha was his mother's ex-boyfriend and a good family-friend… no need at all. It wasn't as if he was lying – he was just assisting a school-friend in shaping a couple of own-made assumptions. Nothing wrong with that.

"Trunks! I just noticed your dad's already grown impatient and left. He's probably waiting outside or near the car."

"Coming!" he shouted.

"You'll tell me everything about seeing the game and sitting with Yamcha next week, right?" the brown-haired boy asked before his famous friend could leave, his dark blue eyes seeking reassurance as he gawked up at the junior martial arts champion.

"Every glory detail," Trunks promised with a thumbs-up. And he went.

A single father who had been eating a sandwich with his vermilion-haired daughter looked up as Bulma and Trunks came out of the glass doors; stunned by the beauty in her short cream dress, the turquoise hair cut to a little below her ears, flawless skin, simple but expensive ear-knobs… until he was pierced by the glare of two pools of nothingness and she was steered quickly out of his sight. He blinked. Man, that lady had gotten herself a delinquent!

During the ride home, both Trunks and Vegeta complained continuously about how faster flying would have been while the self-proclaimed genius drove them home. It didn't stop until she threatened them with violence – a threat so laughable when sitting in the car with two males who could obliterate planets if they wanted to – even her underage son – that it immediately became the subject of a lively, teasing discussion in which father and son teamed up against her until they reached their destination. She sighed tiredly. The things she had to cope with… At least it had kept them busy.

But apparently the purple-haired boy hadn't forgotten about his project, and when his grandma was cooking, his mom reading a magazine in the living room and his father in the hallway on his way to his indoor gravity room; he cornered him.

"Say dad, why is Gohan's and Goten's hair so much more saiyan-like than mine?"

Vegeta groaned.

"Are you still set on that?"

"But it's true! Gohan's and Goten's hair both **grow**, like mine does; but they have more peaks and it's sturdy."

He furrowed his purple eyebrows and pierced the onyx of his father's eyes with his blue, fiery depths, as if **he** was the one to blame for the nature of his hair. That did it, of course (as the boy had very well known it would).

"It's all your mother's fault," the saiyan prince started his tirade. "Her genes left you with weak, silky, purple hair that is subject to nature's every whim; absolutely inexcusable for a saiyan crown prince!"

Trunks gulped. The way his hair had turned out was obviously something his dad considered to be very bad. He transformed in an attempt to turn his father's harsh judgment around, having his hair turn gold and spiky; standing upright like a saiyan's would.

"See?" he said while jumping up and down, showcasing his power while allowing his golden aura to glimmer and sparkle. "I'm a worthy prince, now!"

His father snorted and looked away. Noticing his father's disapproval didn't fade away, Trunks turned back to normal, fidgeting in a disappointed agitation.

"Geese Vegeta, do you want our son to develop an inferiority complex or something? It's not his fault for having a more human hair structure. **Nor is it mine**, by the way."

"Stay out of it, woman. He asked _me_, not you. Son; Kakarot's brats have more saiyan-like hair because his woman's got a family with a bit more thick and sturdy hair, for as far as that's possible for a human. Just look at Goten's grandfather. **You** however come from decades of silkiness; and apparently the laws of nature don't allow superior genes to overrule lesser ones when it comes to the traits of a proud people."

But his son wasn't paying him attention anymore; he was looking at his mother, quite frightful. A vein was throbbing on her forehead.

"Vegeta," she started darkly, "what did we agree on calling me 'woman' in front of our son?"

But before the saiyan husband could open his mouth to respond, their son stuck his nose into the brewing argument; thinking he had something important to say on the matter.

"Why would you call someone something she **is**? I mean, c'mon dad; you'd have to call me 'man', then."

That broke the tension and his mother chortled. "'Boy' is more like it, son."

Vegeta had cocked an eyebrow. "I call you 'brat' often enough."

The ten-year-old sent his father a dark look and piped up again, not planning to give up on the irrevocable logic his mind had just produced. "That's different – that's offending. When you call _me_ 'man', or mom 'woman'; you're just stating a **fact**. Nothing you should be making a fuss about, mom, it's not as if he calls you wen –"

"Out! To your bedroom; now!"

He just needed a second of looking into his mother's eyes to see she was livid, and he hurried away. He had that new turbo-laser in his bedroom anyway, so it wasn't that bad of a punishment.

Her husband, however, wasn't impressed and laughed heartily.

"The boy's right. Wench **is** more appropriate."

"Is that so, asshole?"

But both their eyes were glimmering and it only took a split second until their faces seemed to melt into one as their lips met; until they lost themselves to the electricity that had been sparkling all day. It only took minutes until the saiyan prince was dragging his mate towards their bedroom; the gravity room forgotten. After all those years; the passion never faded.

In the meantime, Trunks had left his turbo-laser neglected in a corner of his bedroom as he was trying to get his hair to behave more saiyan-like in front of the small mirror with a bright blue star-shaped frame that hung on the white wall. But he knew very well that the only way he could achieve that was gel – tons of it.

He wasn't giving up, though. He'd thought of millions of plans to get his way on this project already. He knew what course to take. He'd leave for Mount Paoz first thing in the morning.


	2. Ready, Set, Go

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 2: Ready, Set, Go

Warm yet soft rays stroked the grass on the fertile soil; slowly turning dew to vapor as a slight breeze rustled gently through the small, sharp blades. A mother-squirrel hurried towards her young with an acorn she'd taken from in between the blades of steaming green; even more auburn than usual within the sunrise's locking embrace. Everything was calm and peaceful in the rural, mountainous area where Mount Paoz lay – until –

"Goten! I brought cookies!"

A young boy came running out of the traditional window of a small home in light-blue pajamas with an adorable teddy bear-print, a shock of black hair covering up most of the milky skin of his forehead.

"Where are they where are they where are they?!"

The boy didn't seem to feel the cold to his bare feet even though the grass was still pretty wet and chill – completely focused on the words that had torn him from his sleep; uttered by another boy with purple hair who smiled up at him challengingly, fully dressed in a fighting suit of sturdy, dark-green cotton, complemented by an orange belt.

"Always works; doesn't it?" the youngster mocked him vainly. "But now that you're up –"

But the pajama-wearing boy that had just been woken up so crudely by an empty promise had started pouting and eyed the boy in front of him with a dark, angry glare.

"All right, all right –" Trunks caved in as he waved his hands in front of his face defensively and brought out a nervous smile, "If you'll just come with me and cooperate with my plan I'll make sure to get you lots of cookies, okay?"

"Chocolate? And cookies with strawberry glaze? And sprinkles?"

"Sure, sure! Sheesh, talk about setting demands."

"You are giving it to me, aren't you, Trunks? If you're not I'm going right back to bed!"

"When have I ever let you down? Of course I'm going to give it to you! By the end of the day you'll have gotten a whole jar – it's a double promise," he winked reassuringly.

"Oh boy oh boy! I can hardly wait! So what's your plan?"

"Just get dressed and I'll tell you. And uh – don't wake your mom."

"But won't us talking have already woken her up?"

"Goten."

"What?!"

Purple eyebrows were twitching and Trunks had closed his eyes – like he was reprimanding him!

"Look at the distance that's between us and your house."

The black-haired boy looked around and saw his house look very small. He could easily fit it in his hand and put it on his toy-shelf the way it looked from where they stood.

"Oh."

Laughing, Trunks shook his head at the obliviousness of his nine-year-old friend. He suspected he could hear anything that related to food from miles away, and not even realize what he was doing as he half sleep-walked towards it.

"Well, hurry!" he rushed him.

It took a sleepy ten minutes before Goten finally appeared in the orange-and-blue colors his father wore, except that his orange was of a lighter hue than that of his dad's, who had been alive and living with his family for two whole years now. But right now, the pure-blooded saiyan was still snoring – sound-asleep.

"So what are we going to do?" the boy asked his best friend in a hushed voice.

"We are going to pull a hair from your father's head."

Goten jaw-dropped.

"Why? Won't he be mad at us? Shouldn't we just ask?"

"It's extremely vital that we get a hair from your dad, Goten. It's just a single hair so he won't miss it. If we ask him for a hair and he says 'no' – we'll have alerted him to a possible attack in an attempt to obtain it anyway. And we'd never be able to get a hair."

"Uhuh, uhuh. But he's asleep now – why don't we –?"

"No way! We're saiyans, Goten. It's against the code to not give your dad a chance to defend himself. We're going to meet the challenge head-on – we just need a strategy."

"Oh, so it's about the pride-thing, right?"

"**Yes**."

Finally; his friend had gotten it!

"But why do we need to take his hair again, Trunks?"

He sweat-dropped. Maybe not…

"I haven't actually told you yet."

"Oh. So why?"

"It's an experiment. We have a project at my school – it's really complicated – but I need a hair from a full saiyan and my dad won't give it. It's important!"

"That sounds like your dad, to not give it. Was he really mad when you asked? I mean – you wouldn't try a surprise-attack on **him**, would you?" he asked, obviously kind of in awe if his friend did turn out to have the bravery to cross Vegeta that way and live.

"Uh, well, it's not that I wouldn't dare – it just didn't seem worth the punishment with my mother around too."

Goten folded his arms in front of his chest as he sat down cross-legged, his eyes closed and nodding serenely – as if Trunks saying 'it was important' was enough of an explanation to get on board with his friend's plan and as if he was thinking with an extraordinary intensity.

Trunks swallowed and actually imagined he was hearing the brain of the other demi-saiyan crack – he sat down on his knees and clutched the fabric of his outfit in anticipation.

"I know! We should just fuse and not give him the time to go super on us! We'd just have to fuse and wait a while, and keep our ki low, and then jump on him from a tree!"

Blue eyes were glimmering with delight.

"That actually sounds brilliant, Goten."

The boy laughed sheepishly and grinned, making a peace-sign with his fingers as his bird's nest-resembling hair was suddenly rustled by a gust of wind but remained to stand in that strange, disorderly fashion that defied nature. Trunks looked at it in awe. Maybe he'd need grandpa to examine a bit of his friend's hair too… he had the right to know what the difference with his own hair was, right? Maybe he had to wait a while to ask him, though.

"Say, it'll probably still be a while until your dad's up. What do you say we go bother Gohan and his **girlfriend**?"

Cheesy giggles immediately escaped the nine-year-old and he clutched his stomach as he got the hiccups from laughing just _thinking_ about it – his brother and Videl, who he had met on his high-school, had started living together just a bit over the hill since the week before. The two trouble-makers had already disturbed their peace quite crudely a couple of times, and this seemed to be becoming a favorite pastime of theirs.

Eyes glinting, the younger brother nodded his approval.

The richest boy of earth grinned. Permission – granted!

Obsidian and sky blue eyes stared through the window in the newly furnished bedroom of the young couple that united one of the richest with one of the poorest families of earth. Both of their black-haired heads were visible above the beige sheets; their eyes still closed. The boys floated level with the window, looked at each other, and then proceeded to smile.

"Key's still below the doormat?"

But the floating boy with the charcoal-colored hair shook his head and pointed.

"I've spied on them just like you told me to. It's inside the plant that hangs against the wall near their front door now; just a little below the lantern."

"Perfect."

And the curious eyes vanished from the outside of the bedroom window, allowing the sunlight to fully breach the room and slowly drag Hercule Satan's daughter out of the realm of dreams. She squinted and her sapphire eyes opened; then she smiled. Gohan was lying down beside her. It still seemed unrealistic and she thought she must still be dreaming when she woke each day, as if the world was playing some kind of trick on her, but it imbued her with a sense of peace and safety to see his warm, calm and strong form still soothingly lie beside her. She was just stroking his cheek gently as she heard the ruckus downstairs. She gritted her teeth and a vein became visible on her temple. Not his little brother with his noisy friend again…

Videl got up quickly, dressed, and placed a light kiss on Gohan's forehead.

"Just taking care of a bunch of nosy kids. Be right back."

He mumbled something along the lines of 'go get them' and turned, and Videl Satan turned towards the upstairs hallway. That was exactly what she was planning to do…

Goten and Trunks had just been sneaking up the stairs when their route was blocked by a large shadow. They stopped dead in their tracks; Bulma's son took a step back.

"So, boys? Wanted to play?"

The diabolical smile the girlfriend of Goten's big brother shot at them was just terrifying.

"This is called 'breaking and entering'. Did you know that?"

She took a step forwards and both boys took a step back, causing them to stand even more completely _beneath_ the nineteen-year-old girl than they had been standing before.

"We – we had no idea," Trunks gulped.

"I bet you didn't."

The fiery girl was loving it. They might be demi-saiyans, but she had the boys right where she wanted them. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows formed themselves into an angry glare.

"Now why don't you both apologize for this game you've been playing?"

She turned to her boyfriend's kid-brother who was eleven years younger than he was, trying to play the guilt-card. "Don't you want your brother to feel happy?"

Trunks saw it happening – Goten shuffled his feet and his shoulders slumped – and he knew he had to do something about this; right here, right now.

"Lookie lookie at what we found downstairs before Goten knocked that vase – uh, whoops, sorry Goten –"

Videl's eyebrows were twitching so he had to be quick if he wanted to unfold the rest of his blackmailing plan that had actually just been supposed to serve as a safety-measure for if things were to blow up in their faces. But they had, hadn't they? He had their reputation to save! "I wonder what your dad will pay me for this picture of you and Gohan kissing? I thought you weren't allowed a thing until marriage," he smirked superiorly.

"Why you little –"

But no matter how hard Videl tried, she couldn't catch the boy. In the end, she forced her lips into a smile. "Why don't we all just forget about this and play some cards downstairs with some sweets? On condition that the two of you will leave us alone for at least two weeks."

"Yay!" Goten exclaimed. Trunks had wanted to get a bit more out of the bargain, but his friend seemed pleased so he decided to drop it.

When Gohan came downstairs after another forty minutes, he couldn't have been more surprised to see his brother, Trunks and Videl all happily chatting away at the kitchen table, each a deck of cards in hands. The things that happened in their world…

"FU – SION – HA!"

Their fingers touched after a series of movements that were dance-like and held a perfect symmetry in not only the way that they mirrored the movements of the other, but also in the way that their powers were held meticulously on the same level and that they breathed – even thought – as a single entity. And that's what they were after the fusion had completed.

Gotenks had been born once again.

His hair stood upright in a similar fashion as the hair of Trunks's father did, except that the onyx locks were completely purple near the edges. The new boy smiled arrogantly as he stretched, his bare chest hardly covered by the blue jacket with a sturdy yellow material around the neck and shoulders. He had black wristbands and black boots, white-grayish, battle-ready pants and a belt of a worn hue of blue; the ends of it playfully moving in the wind on the boy's left side where the cotton fabric of the belt was put into a knot. The same worn-out blue fabric was taped above his boots, and everything about the boy screamed he was a warrior to be reckoned with – a force above all others. He was cockily aware of it, too.

"Well, I guess I'm on a quest to claim a hair, then," the voices of both Goten as Trunks resounded into one as Gotenks spoke after he'd finished stretching; hands leisurely on his hips. "Guess I'll startle him."

And the plan had obviously been forgotten as the boy walked up to a man in orange-blue clothing that had just been collecting firewood by taking down some trees.

"Hey you!"

"Huh? Goten, Trunks?"

"The name's Gotenks, bozo!"

And the boy flew up and attempted to land a kick the earth-raised saiyan evaded.

"Whoah, what's gotten into you this early?"

But Goku was smiling. The energy of these kids was so admirable… and an excuse to do something that resembled fighting was never a bad one, for as far as he was concerned.

"Well well, not half bad, I guess. Try and duck this one! Galactic Donut!"

And he put his fists towards each other with straightened arms and Goku saw a circle of yellow ki meant to trap him appear above his head and smiled, then used his instant transmission to get behind Gotenks and trap him with his arms.

"Any better ideas?"

"Hey, no fair!"

Gotenks punched and kicked until he'd freed himself, then shot Goku an angry glare.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Don't look at me. I didn't just try slicing my opponent in half."

"You know just as well as I do that I'm playing!" he yelled.

"Do I? For as far as I know, you could be an enemy," the low-class smiled mischievously.

"All right, have it your way then. I have to think of my goal, anyway –"

Goku's eyebrows shot up. Goal?

But he wasn't left with time to ponder, because before he could've thought about transforming himself Gotenks eyebrows had already faded and spiky, golden hair reached up to his ankles – and then there was a sudden, stinging pain to his head.

"**Ow**! Hey, what did you do that for?"

But Gotenks was already up in the sky and flying off, back in his normal state as he waved at him with a single black hair between his fingers. "Thank you! See ya!"

He watched them leave; astounded. What had that all been about?

The boys sat down on tree-trunks in the woods happily when they finally split. That had been fun. Trunks looked at the hair between his fingers, twirled it around, and then put it into a small, plastic jar he'd kept hidden underneath his clothes.

"Cool. That ought to do it. Although – can I have a hair from you, too, Goten? Grandpa has to run some tests on differences between saiyan and half-saiyan hair."

"What?! You never said you'd be needing a hair from me too, Trunks! You liar!"

"Geez, just calm down, Goten. I don't **need** it if you really don't want to give it, but it would be good for grandpa to have material for comparison. I want to know why my hair isn't more like yours. I'm half-saiyan too, you know. Oh, I know! What if I'll give you my new turbo laser in exchange for just one of your hairs? Does that seem fair?"

His friend's face lit up.

"Are you serious, Trunks? And you aren't saying that so you can forget about the cookies, right?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Of course not! I'll have grandpa examine one of my hairs, too – I think I can just get one from my brush – ow! Hey, what was that for?"

Goten smiled up at his tough friend with his now so watery eyes as he twirled a purple hair in between his fingers. He closed his eyes as he sat through the sharp pain that he put himself through as he pulled a black hair from his own head, as well, and he gave the pair to Trunks.

"It's called solidarity," he echoed words his friend had said to him to get his way on something else before.

Vegeta's son grumbled as he put both hairs into the plastic jar – Goku's son laughed.


	3. Youthful Twist

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 3: Youthful Twist

"Sir! Purple haze and black oblivion reporting back from our mission, sir!"

Vegeta sweat-dropped as he looked behind him and saw the boys standing there, positioning themselves like human soldiers. It was disgraceful. He really needed to get it through his woman's head that their son ought to be shielded from human influences like that. They could at least have programs that contained human warfare-policies shunned from their TV… it was exactly that that was spoiling his son's mind. With all these strange rules and etiquettes, they looked more like a most peculiarly drilled drum-corps than like an army. Nothing the heir to the throne of the most proud warrior race in the universe should be taking a liking to.

But his half-human son took his look as a sign of approval to continue his report and he ploughed on, Goten standing beside him; looking completely fired up.

"We confiscated a hair from the third-class saiyan known as Kakarot and both of us contributed a hair of our own to Capsule Corp's smoking genius and his cat. We're now patiently awaiting the results that are expected later on today."

"We are, king Vegeta!" Goten chipped in.

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow. King? Kakarot's youngest brat was calling him 'king'?

The boy had seen his look of interest and confusion and started to lay out his reasoning behind this title at once.

"Trunks told me you were a prince. If the saiyan planet would have still been there, you'd be a king by now; isn't that true, Trunks's dad, sir?"

A cocky smile told the small Goku look-a-like he'd done the right thing and he sighed, feeling quite relieved. For a minute there, he'd started worrying the man might want to do something to him for being impolite or rude. But he'd apparently said the right thing after all.

"So how _did_ you two get a hair from Kakarot? Let me guess; you asked him and the clown just pulled it off his head?"

"No way! That's no way for a **warrior** to go about things!"

That was his son. He smirked. Maybe the human influences didn't have that big a hold on the boy, after all.

"Yeah, we did something better than that, king! We fused and turned super saiyan three and attacked him head-on and we got his hair and flew off! Right, Trunks?"

"Geez Goten, you could've told that in a more exciting way. Where are the _details_? You'd think I didn't teach you anything! You have to keep your audience in suspense, talk about your tactics, about the impressive moves you've used, about –"

"You are no human, son. Nor are you that idiot 'champion'; Satan. So try to act like a saiyan and keep the stupid suspense-stories to yourself. There's no way you're going to impress a true warrior by behaving so childishly."

Trunks swallowed and Goten gave him a stern 'way to ruin it'-look. It was one of those rare moments where the purple-haired boy actually felt cornered and had to give in to save the situation and the cool composure he prided himself on. Usually, it was the other way around.

But he wasn't the son of the cunning beauty of Capsule Corporation and the just as cunning prince of saiyans for nothing; and so he increased his attitude and tried to make amends by following his friend's earlier example in the role-play they'd been holding up.

"Please accept my apologies, king Vegeta! It must be the human blood. I'd just thought you'd enjoy a more elaborate version of how we pounded the third-grade Kakarot."

Vegeta's anger faded as his amusement grew when hearing the calculating cockiness in his son's voice. A see-through antic like referring to Goku as Kakarot just to earn his respect and attention would have usually caused his mockery – a justified mockery, as his son never did refer to the other saiyan by his original name.

But being addressed as 'king' and having the kids practically bow before him like that… it wasn't even that it stroked his ego – in a different mood, he would've even easily turned it around until it was like a sign that read 'offensive'. It would have been a cruel confrontation with what he had been stripped off by a past he'd never asked for, and he would've been caught in outrage within seconds.

Yet that old hurt just didn't knock on the door of his consciousness anymore; no longer prying for his relenting attentions. Right now, this little kid's game was just so laughable that it was practically _begging_ to be abused. He smirked as he glanced sideways.

Bulma was watching from a couple of yards away while leaning against the wall, laughing inwardly. Maybe the two boys didn't realize it, but from where she was standing, it pretty much seemed like they had the saiyan prince wrapped around their fingers with all the flattering to his royal roots and this sudden appreciation for saiyan culture they were putting up. Oh, she'd rub this in his face later on today… this was too good an opportunity to pass on and leave neglected in a corner where it would be collecting dust; wasting its potential.

The blue-haired beauty raised her eyebrows as the saiyan prince suddenly took the boys out of earshot. What was he up to?

"King, huh? Very well then; I'll get on board with this game. As my subjects, you are to proceed with a task I have in mind for the two of you. So will you obey your king?"

"At your service!" the two boys said as one.

Vegeta smirked as he glanced sideways towards his mate again. This was going to be good.

She watched the party break up in suspicion through her azure eyes. Both her son as Goten had gone in different directions and her husband had decided to be antisocial; leaning against the same wall she was leaning against, but purposely six yards away while the ape _knew_ where she was standing. She wasn't thick; that man was more naturally in tune with her ki than anyone else in the world. Their son's ability was nothing compared to it.

It was just when the greatest female genius of earth had started on an angry stalk towards the most impossible saiyan out there that she was startled. Completely, utterly, startled.

"Eeeeeek!"

"Hahaha… sorry Mrs. Bulma. Task completed, king!"

"Oh damn it, Goten, why'd you have to take the honor? I could've done _that_ – I was just scheming on a more **spectacular** way of making mom shriek," the purple-haired mischief-artist called to his friend from the yellow building's roof.

"Come off it, Trunks! And you still owe me cookies and that toy, too!"

"Vegeta…" came the dark, malevolent voice of the present public face of the largest technological company of the human planet. She was stalking up to him for real this time; having easily added one and one together through the chatter of the demi-saiyans.

Goku's youngest son had come up to her from behind while she had been completely focused on Vegeta, sending chills down her spine as his ki-imbued fingers had suddenly softly touched her back. The laughter in the saiyan's eyes told her more than enough.

"You jerk. Was that really necessary?"

He grinned, gloating. "You should've seen your face."

And as could've been expected, the volatile woman exploded.

"I should not have seen it; our son and his best friend should not have seen it; and what should not have happened **especially** is you undermining my authority by embarrassing me in front of them! Do you even ever **stop** to consider the values you're teaching them with that thick head of yours, you dumbass?! Or is it just training and pride and fighting?"

He smiled as the electricity in her sparkling blue eyes bored into the impenetrable and unyielding obsidian of his. Just seeing her like this made playing along with that silly children's game worthwhile, and he smiled as he started to counter the points she'd made.

"Undermining your authority? What kind of authority are you even referring to when you allow 'our son' extra ice cream the one day because you have a headache that proves too large to leave you able to deal with the whining _properly_, and then deny him that same batch of ice cream the next day even though the circumstances are exactly the same?

Honestly woman, at least the values _I_ teach the brat are constant and never-changing. **That's** what I call 'authority'."

Red pigments found their way onto the beauty's cheeks, but she wasn't planning to give in that easily.

"Don't use examples that aren't relevant to this situation, jackass. The fact remains that you're teaching your son to be disrespectful of his mother."

But Vegeta's eyes sparkled as if she'd just thrown a present at him.

"I was waiting for you to start calling him 'my' son. Good job, Bulma."

She flushed and put her index-finger to the cotton fabric of the indigo shirt he was wearing to emphasize what was going to be her next argument – when her father suddenly came around and distracted her from what she was going to say.

"Trunks?" the old man scratched his throat.

"I'm here, gramps! So what do the results say?"

"Uh, well, it was actually quite intriguing, I must say. Both human as saiyan hair is composed mainly of keratin; but what makes the striking difference are the erect pili muscles."

"Erect what?"

Goten had started to stand next to his friend and Bulma was listening intently, her hand subconsciously fumbling with the indigo fabric of her husband's shirt. Vegeta seemed disinterested and agitated at the same time.

"Small muscles that human hair has too; when you are excited in some way, even human hair can literally stand on end. Not as 'out there' as with saiyan hair, obviously…" he drawled.

"I discovered an incredible amount of these muscles in Goku's hair and a decent amount in that of your friend Goten, as well. And the most peculiar thing is that these muscles are continuously active. Continuously! I wonder if it has anything to do with a higher-than-human level of ki, since saiyans are usually born with extraordinary prowess that far extends our imagination. Well; it _should_ no longer extend my imagination, but still…"

The attention-span of his grandpa seemed to wander again and Trunks urged him to go on.

"Goku's hair also missed out on the network of capillary blood vessels to supply oxygen, energy and the amino acids needed for growth that are usually present in the dermal papilla, and then I did not even mention the metallic elements yet! Promethium is present in the hairs of all three of you – and I don't recall ever reading about that element coming across in human hair. In the case of humans, metallic elements are usually absorbed into the cellular structure of our hairs through environmental exposure, but I'm seriously starting to consider that promethium is just a standard component of saiyan hair. There were a couple of unknown elements I have not quite gotten around to grasping the function of – but the nervous system in the hair of Goku was different from either of your hairs, which makes me think that –"

His grandson's blue eyes had become hazy and Goten was looking like he'd zoned out, as well. Actually; his daughter was the only one still listening as his sentences became more complicated, more jargon-filled, and inevitably longer…

Dr. Briefs had lost himself to his awe of his new discoveries and was ranting more and more as if he was speaking with a fellow scientist – not to a ten-year-old child.

"Uh, grandpa? Hello? Earth to grandpa!"

Capsule Corporation's absent-minded founder blinked as if he was appreciating the flesh-and-blood version of his grandson through his glasses for the first time that day.

"Thanks for all the research and everything, but I think I'm going another way for school."

"Oh. Sure."

And the boy quickly ran to his mother whose mind – much to his delight – had not completely ascended back into the present-day reality either.

"Hey mom, will you write an essay for me about the structure of leaves here on earth and what needs to be changed to make them blue? Thanks – gotta run. Promised Goten some cookies. Grandmaaaa!"

And purple haze was off, closely followed by black oblivion.

Bulma blinked. She'd just seen her son from behind when her dad had been giving his explanation and her heart had swelled up as the over-active child had remained to stand so uncharacteristically _still_; convinced that a hidden scientific side to her son had finally popped up. But the bubble burst quickly as the situation finally sunk in. **What** had she just agreed to?!

She suddenly felt a hand on her left shoulder and she turned. Vegeta was smirking.

"Forgot to tell him to research something for his project himself? How – _constant_. The boy's respect for you is _bound_ to have risen by two feet at least."

"Would you shut up and stop it with the gloating? That kid's too fast sometimes. And I was stunned – I was under the impression he was actually interested in the subject and patiently listening to his grandfather!"

"When the man started rambling on like that? Please. You should've known better."

Vegeta had taken on a serious tone and Bulma gritted her teeth. It was one of these occasions in which her husband was absolutely right – but it never did please her to give in and admit so to him if she could avoid it. So she decided to throw it on a different course.

"All right," she smiled. "I present no authority to my son whatsoever."

The saiyan royalty cocked an eyebrow. "And now it's 'your' son?"

"It's _your_ son if you screw up, _my_ son if I pride myself on screwing up and _our_ son when everything's well. You should know that by now, Vegeta."

He chuckled. "You're as insane as always."

"And **you**'ve been provoking me all day. I can imagine it's hard to be around me when I'm radiating – but shouldn't you be trying some restraint? Or have you been feeling lonely?" she purred.

He smirked. "I just like the way your features distort and become hag-like when you can't help but give into the bait of yours truly."

The argument that ensued was tremendous and when the time had finally come for Goten to leave for Mount Paoz – arms filled with cookies and the promised turbo laser – and for their son to head for bed, it had still not died out as they sat together on the living room couch.

Like bits of charcoal that are too stubborn to stop smoldering and that keep on sending sparks into mid-air while the rest of the fire has already stopped blazing.

"But you have to admit that you **loved** being called king. I know you did."

"Your remarks are lacking intelligence, woman. You're getting sleepy."

"Nope: I'm just right, like I always am. You're just saying that because **you**'re becoming too sleepy to come up with a thought-through remark to counter mine. You're getting lazy."

"Is that so?"

"Can you prove me wrong then, _my king_?" she cooed. But he could.

"I shall always be a prince, woman. I no longer cherish the crazy sentiment that would cause me to desire the past had taken a different turn."

Bulma's heart warmed as she fully realized what the deeper meaning behind her lover's words was. He was fine here – with them. He had no need of becoming a king, neither in his past nor in his present. He would always be prince Vegeta of the saiyans.

She smiled. _Her_ prince Vegeta.

In the meantime, Trunks was looking at his reflection in his star-shaped mirror while sitting on the edge of his bed, twirling a tuft of sleek, purple hair around and smirking.

Maybe his hair wasn't so bad after all; even though most of his grandfather's rant had been lost to him, at least the promethium-thing had sounded cool. It didn't _need_ to **appear** saiyan.

Wasn't being saiyan more a way of living than anything else anyway; the way his dad always talked about it? His father disliked Goten's dad because the other saiyan didn't manage to uphold the values of a true saiyan even though there could be no doubt about the reality of his saiyan nature through his physique. He'd never heard his dad talk about 'Kakarot' being more worthwhile because his hair withstood each and every circumstance like his own did.

He smiled. He'd keep doing what he had always done: show his father he was saiyan each day by **living** like one.

And the young Trunks ordered the lights of his room to dim through voice-control and lay down underneath his star-strewn sheets. The purple-haired prince felt completely at ease as a peaceful slumber overtook him. Even though he wouldn't be taking the hairy project he'd assigned himself to school, the results were already in; the marks given. They were perfect.


End file.
